Jason (Kings of Guardian #4) Read Online Free
Author: Kris Michaels
unacceptable.
Lifting away from his desk, Jason stretched to the ceiling trying to alleviate the stress to his lower back. It didn’t help. It never did. He lived with the discomfort. His rigorous weightlifting had strengthened his muscles, giving a measure of relief, but the ache seemed to be ever-present.
The last folder on his desk called to him. He glanced at the clock and groaned. He’d been at the complex since 5:00 a.m. and it was closing on 8:00 p.m. He could leave it and come back to work in the morning, or review it now, dictate his responses and have a full day off. Without hesitation, Jason pulled the folder toward him and unwound the string binding the information.
The sheath of paper stuck on the edge of the folder and the contents spilled haphazardly across the mahogany woodgrain of his desk. Not that Jason noticed the furniture. His eyes fixed on the photo that skittered to a stop by his left hand, a face he saw in his dreams almost every fucking night—Theo Collins. The tremor in his hand intensified as he reached for the other photo of two men, Theo Collins and Miguel Santos. Dead because of decisions he made when he led that mission from hell. The overwhelming urge to take a pill, or twenty, to numb his pain screamed across his nerve endings. Jason pushed away from his desk and dropped his elbows to his knees, holding his head in his shaking hands. How did this folder end up on his desk, and why? Why would Gabriel want him to make recommendations on this? What the fuck?
He lifted his eyes to the scattered papers, noticing for the first time the handwritten note on top of them.
Jason,
These men were seasoned veterans who knew the price associated with the mission we provide. They were willing to pay it.
Guardian and our nation have an obligation to remember the sacrifices made by these men. I have considered it my sacred responsibility, and now yours, to monitor the families of our fallen to ensure our organization provides for what they may need to go forward.
I realize I have failed you by not giving you the same support. Now it is time for you to go forward. Talk with your men’s families. Find the closure you need.
Remember, I won’t put more on your shoulders than I think you can bear. You, my friend, are the granite I am building my legacy upon. Find the strength to do what you know needs to be done.
G.
Jason shook his head, dropped the note and grabbed his suit jacket, cell phone, and keys. Eight steps put him out his office door heading toward the elevator. He wanted a handful of pills so bad he could feel the bitter taste pulling the saliva from his tongue. The need to numb the past and quiet the accusations screamed in his mind. The driving compulsion had never been as strong as it was in this moment. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? The desire to use again was always there, lying in wait. Tonight, Jason desperately wanted to feel that obliterating peace and the floating high prescription painkillers gave him. A cold sheen formed on his skin under his silk shirt. His leg bounced in agitation as he waited for the elevator. His trembling hand drummed out a staccato beat on the cold metal frame surrounding the slow moving lift before he clenched his fist and slammed it into the thin metal casing. The pain from the blow didn’t dim his thirst for the drugs. The dent he left in his fist’s wake didn’t soothe the itch under his skin. Nothing would, except…
Fuck, Gabriel’s request pushed him straight back into his own personal hell. Well, he’d been here before. The well-worn path was easy to follow.
Jason scrolled through his phone looking for the information he needed. He knew where to go, who to talk to to get what he needed, and God pity the fool that got in his way, because he sure as fuck
Lifting away from his desk, Jason stretched to the ceiling trying to alleviate the stress to his lower back. It didn’t help. It never did. He lived with the discomfort. His rigorous weightlifting had strengthened his muscles, giving a measure of relief, but the ache seemed to be ever-present.
The last folder on his desk called to him. He glanced at the clock and groaned. He’d been at the complex since 5:00 a.m. and it was closing on 8:00 p.m. He could leave it and come back to work in the morning, or review it now, dictate his responses and have a full day off. Without hesitation, Jason pulled the folder toward him and unwound the string binding the information.
The sheath of paper stuck on the edge of the folder and the contents spilled haphazardly across the mahogany woodgrain of his desk. Not that Jason noticed the furniture. His eyes fixed on the photo that skittered to a stop by his left hand, a face he saw in his dreams almost every fucking night—Theo Collins. The tremor in his hand intensified as he reached for the other photo of two men, Theo Collins and Miguel Santos. Dead because of decisions he made when he led that mission from hell. The overwhelming urge to take a pill, or twenty, to numb his pain screamed across his nerve endings. Jason pushed away from his desk and dropped his elbows to his knees, holding his head in his shaking hands. How did this folder end up on his desk, and why? Why would Gabriel want him to make recommendations on this? What the fuck?
He lifted his eyes to the scattered papers, noticing for the first time the handwritten note on top of them.
Jason,
These men were seasoned veterans who knew the price associated with the mission we provide. They were willing to pay it.
Guardian and our nation have an obligation to remember the sacrifices made by these men. I have considered it my sacred responsibility, and now yours, to monitor the families of our fallen to ensure our organization provides for what they may need to go forward.
I realize I have failed you by not giving you the same support. Now it is time for you to go forward. Talk with your men’s families. Find the closure you need.
Remember, I won’t put more on your shoulders than I think you can bear. You, my friend, are the granite I am building my legacy upon. Find the strength to do what you know needs to be done.
G.
Jason shook his head, dropped the note and grabbed his suit jacket, cell phone, and keys. Eight steps put him out his office door heading toward the elevator. He wanted a handful of pills so bad he could feel the bitter taste pulling the saliva from his tongue. The need to numb the past and quiet the accusations screamed in his mind. The driving compulsion had never been as strong as it was in this moment. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? The desire to use again was always there, lying in wait. Tonight, Jason desperately wanted to feel that obliterating peace and the floating high prescription painkillers gave him. A cold sheen formed on his skin under his silk shirt. His leg bounced in agitation as he waited for the elevator. His trembling hand drummed out a staccato beat on the cold metal frame surrounding the slow moving lift before he clenched his fist and slammed it into the thin metal casing. The pain from the blow didn’t dim his thirst for the drugs. The dent he left in his fist’s wake didn’t soothe the itch under his skin. Nothing would, except…
Fuck, Gabriel’s request pushed him straight back into his own personal hell. Well, he’d been here before. The well-worn path was easy to follow.
Jason scrolled through his phone looking for the information he needed. He knew where to go, who to talk to to get what he needed, and God pity the fool that got in his way, because he sure as fuck
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